His Fair Lady (35 page)

Royce shoved to his feet, growling, and quit
the hall. Mayhap her one suitor had the right of it after all. A
nunnery might be the perfect place to deposit the maiden and her
barbed tongue — a convent whose order strictly enforced the rule of
silence!

“What do you mean she didn’t come for her
lessons this morn?” Royce threw down his quill and rose from the
table.

Edmond wrung his hands and started to speak.
Just then Luvena appeared at the door of the tower chamber.

“What do you know of Lady Juliana?” Royce
swung his temper over the maid. “Where has she gotten to now?”

Luvena’s gaze skipped from Royce to Edmond
and back again. “She wished to learn more of the castle and its
workings, my lord, and has gone to do so.”

“Without supervision?” he burst with
annoyance. “She’s well supervised. Several of the staff aid
her.”

“Aid her?
At
what precisely?” Suspicion shot through his veins.

“The fish pond, my lord.”

Royce thrust his hand through his hair, then
looked to Friar Tupper, who had been helping him itemize Beckwell’s
assets. “We’ll speak anon, friar,” he offered in parting, then went
in search of Juliana.

Locating the pond on the east side of the
curtain wall, Royce quickly spied the maid and made a straight path
toward her, approaching from behind. Juliana stood at the water’s
edge, her hair covered with a large kerchief. The temperature
having warmed, she’d set aside her mantle and wore only her kirtle,
the sleeves pushed up.

As Royce closed the distance, she bent from
the waist, stretching forward as she extended a pole and net to
skim the debris from the water’s surface. He started to call out to
her, but just then she shifted quickly giving a wiggle to her
shapely posterior and causing his words to wedge in his throat.

He continued to watch, his mouth gone dry,
while she finished her task, then straightened and turned.

“Sir Knight!” she exclaimed.

Startled by his presence, Juliana took a
swift step back. Trammeling her heel in her gown, she pulled
herself off balance, and plunged backward into the pond with a
large splash. The servants who’d been assisting her rushed to help,
but Royce leapt into the water and reached her first. He caught her
by both arms and drew her out.

Juliana spluttered, coughing on pond water,
as Royce helped her regain her feet. Clearing her throat, she
raised green eyes to his, peering through spiked lashes, her
kerchief tangled in soppy strands of silver hair. In short, she
appeared a sodden, shivering, bedraggled mess.

As Royce dropped his gaze lower, his breath
caught at the sight of her kirtle plastered to her body, leaving
little to be imagined. The fabric conformed to her lush breasts,
the nipples pebble-hard, the circles clearly visible. She might as
well wear naught. Despite himself, he felt his loins stir, an
unexpected jolt of desire passing through him.

Realizing the others gaped dumbfounded at
Juliana as well, Royce snatched the mantle from his shoulders and
wrapped it about her. For a moment he couldn’t find his voice,
distracted by his swelling response, distracted too by an
unreasonable anger that others had seen Juliana thusly, as good as
naked, though by no fault of their own.

Deciding he’d deal with his conscience
later, Royce applied himself to dealing with the maid. He caught
her up as though a sack of wheat, tossed her over his shoulder, and
headed for the hall. Not surprisingly, she struggled and kicked
against his hold.

“What are you doing? Put me down this
instance!”

“I’m seeing you back to where you belong,
and I’ll put you down when we are there,” he asserted in a voice
edged with steel. He carried her the full distance to the Great
Hall and once inside, he set her on her feet again.

“Why are you angry with me? You told me to
oversee the castle’s affairs and I did!” she stormed in her own fit
of temper. “The fish was barely tolerable last night. I found the
pond befouled so the servants and I set to cleaning it.”

Royce grappled with the emotions raging
through him. ‘Twas more the sight of her feminine attributes,
displayed so revealingly before all, that had aroused his fury and
admittedly more. He could not confess that to her, however.

“Overseeing means just that —
overseeing
the servants’ work, not
doing it for them.”

“Then I’ve failed again, haven’t I? I’ll
never be the lady you wish to make me. Why not just send me back to
Chinon? There’s no reason for me to stay here.”

“Penhurst is your reason.”

“‘
Tis a place, not a reason. People
are a reason. Let me return to those who care for me, who love
me.”

“To your cooper?” he bit out. “Nay, Juliana,
I’ve no intention of letting you go anywhere, especially not back
to him.”

“Haven’t you interfered enough in my
life?”Her anger flared. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve given my sacred oath to see you take
your place as Penhurst’s lady and see you married.”

“Ohhh!” She launched herself at his chest
but he caught her wrists and pulled her against him before she
could attempt any damage.

“I know — I’ve ruined your life and you hate
me. But I do hold legal authority over you and you will do as I
say.”

“Which is?” She tossed her head defiantly,
flinging droplets of the fetid pond water across his nose and
cheek.

“For now, take another bath,” he said
between clenched teeth. “Here is Luvena now. Go with her, keep to
your chamber, and strive to stay out of trouble. Is that
clear?”

“Perfectly,” she hissed, then turned on her
heel and marched from the hall.

As Royce brought his gaze from the maid, he
discovered he held the attention of everyone in the hall.

“Well? Have you something to say?” he
bellowed.

One of the men-at-arms ventured forward.
“Don’t be too hard on Lady Juliana, my lord. We all understand
she’s had an irregular past. However, she does make the finest ale
and beer ever to be swilled at Penhurst.”

“Anywhere on these shores!” avowed another
standing nearby, lifting his cup in her honor.

Royce felt his temper climb higher
still. “Lady Juliana made the ale?
Herself?
”

“And the beer.”

“She’s the mistress of Penhurst, not its
alewife, or its brewer,” he blared.

Friar Tupper worked his way through the
small knot of soldiers and servants and came to stand before
Royce.

“If I may be allowed an observation, my son,
I’ve been conversing with those of Penhurst — the garrison in
particular — and, well, they all seem very happy with the
improvements, quite pleased that their new mistress possesses the
skills she does.”

Royce’s nostrils flared in anger. “I repeat,
she is the lady of the castle, not . . .”

“Yes, yes, my son. But there is no reason
she cannot instruct others to do the work in her stead. ‘Twill
improve her confidence, while adding to the smooth running of the
castle. I’ve no doubt of it.”

“If you are so enamored of her skills, good
friar, then you may supervise her efforts. See that she trains
others in the craft and not merely assumes their place.”

At that Royce quit the hall and sought his
bedchamber. His clothes reeked of the fish pond and his boots were
ruined. He couldn’t help but wonder if a pitcher of ale might await
him there. God’s truth, ‘twould be welcome.

»«

At supper, Luvena sent word that Lady
Juliana had taken the sniffles and chose to stay abed. Royce spent
the time reviewing matters concerning Beckwell with the friar.

Hours later, as the castle bedded down for
the night, Royce made his final rounds, checking the ward, stopping
by the gatehouse, and speaking with the watchmen. As he started
back, looking forward to a sound night’s sleep, he spied a cloaked
figure slipping along the inner wall, keeping to the shadows. ‘Twas
a woman’s figure, of Juliana’s height, heading for the stable.

Royce swore beneath his breath and followed
her, keeping just beyond her sight. Did she think to steal a horse
again? How did she plan to get past the watchmen and out of the
gate? And what then?

As he stepped through the doors of the
stable, layers of pungent odors assailed him, bespeaking of horse,
leather, hay, and earth. Juliana stood several stalls down,
offering the groom a costly ring, urging him to saddle Nutmeg.

Royce crossed the space in long strides,
snatched the ring from Juliana’s fingers, then sent the groom
scrambling away. He turned on Juliana and held up the ring before
her.

“I assume this came from Lord Gilbert’s
coffers — your mother’s or grandmother’s ring?” he blazed. “You
have the gall to bribe the stablehand with it, that you might
escape?”

“I
—
I was
going to send Nutmeg back,” she stammered, avoiding the full of his
question. “I intended to ride her only as far as the river and then
hire a boat.”

“Hire?”
He
snorted. “With what? And were you going to bribe your way through
the gatehouse too? Again, using what? Have you thieved more
belonging to the lords and ladies of Penhurst?”

Juliana’s hand went to the pouch at her
waist. Seeing this, Royce seized upon it, only to find it weighted
with several jeweled brooches and rings.

“You steal from Penhurst?” he snarled.

“No, not steal. If I am its heiress, then I
am entitled to them. Besides, I took only what I would need.”

“Now you are the heiress, are you? Either
you are or you are not, Juliana. Which is it?”

She clenched her mouth tight, refusing to
answer. Breaking away her gaze, she started past him. “I am going
to my chamber,” she stated flatly.

Royce’s hand shot out, snaring her and
hauling her back. “Answer me. Do you accept you are Juliana
Mandeville or not?”

“Let me go,” she struggled against his
grip.

He tightened his hold. “Why won’t you answer
me? Do you claim to be the lost heiress, yea or nay?”

She continued to resist him, impatient to be
free. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know!”

“But you already do. You called Lord Gilbert
‘grandfather.’ You spoke of dreams. You remembered things from you
past, didn’t you Juliana? Or was all that a lie, a pretense, to
make an old man happy on his deathbed?”

“Nay, ‘twas no pretense.”

“Then you
are
Juliana.”

“I don’t know.” She trembled beneath his
hands. “Please, just let me go.”

Royce pulled her against his chest, sinking
his hand into her silvery hair and forcing her to look at him. “Why
won’t you say it? What are you concealing? Why won’t you admit you
are the lost maid of Penhurst?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “What does it
matter who I claim to be? ‘Tis Chinon, not Penhurst, that has been
my home for these ten years past. That is what I remember, all I
remember. That is where I belong.”

She hid something. Royce sensed it, as much
by her desperation to avoid the matter as by the shaking that had
overtaken her body.

“You do remember something,” he charged.
“Something that ties you here, that tells you who you are.”

“Only dreams, images.” She avoided his gaze
but he gave her a shake, forcing her eyes back to his.

“I ask you again. Why did you call Lord
Gilbert ‘grandfather’? Was it a lie?”

“Nay, I spoke truthfully,” she choked out
with a sudden sob. “But that doesn’t mean I am certain of my
identity.”

Royce vented a breath of frustration.
“Juliana, you speak in riddles.”

“Riddles, dreams — none of it matters.”
Tears began to stream over her cheeks. “Lord Gilbert is dead and I
wish to go back from whence I came, to the life I had before you
took me from the church steps on my wedding day and turned my world
upside down.”

Royce tensed at her reproach, then saw
through it.

“‘
Tis the cooper, isn’t it? He’s the
reason you’re so impatient to return to Chinon. You’re intent on
marrying him, aren’t you?”

“If you would know, yes, I am.”

“Do you love him?”

“I—I . . .”

“Or is it that you wish to marry him out of
some misplaced loyalty?”

“I — I don’t understand.”

“After your betrothal, did he bed you?”

“Bed me?” Her lashes and brows flew
upward.

“Is that why you are so intent on marrying
him, because he’s enjoyed your body already and you feel you must
solemnize the act?”

“How dare you!” She wrenched free of his
hold, her eyes fierce with anger. “You insufferable boor! Gervase
did not bed me. I’ve never been intimate with a man.”

“You claim to be a virgin?” His words
stabbed the air.

“I
am
a virgin, not that ‘tis your concern.”

“‘
Tis very much my concern since, as
your guardian, I am charged with negotiating your
marriage.”

“Ah, yes, and I am more a prize as a virgin
bride to the husband you would inflict on me.”

Royce opened his mouth to retort, but found
himself speechless, owing to the hard truth of her words.

Suddenly she softened, her eyes becoming
open wounds. “Please, Sir Knight, if a heart beats in your chest,
then do not condemn me to this fate, to some nameless man to use
me. Let me return to Chinon, to Georges and Marie. Gervase,
too.”

Royce steeled himself against her
plea, against the torment he read in her face. “That I cannot do.
I’ve given my sacred oath to your grandfather, and I believe beyond
doubt you
are
Juliana
Mandeville, the heiress of Penhurst.”